The Little Trails of Functioning Relationships
by SingerOfYesterday
Summary: They could not be any different. There were no signs, no indications that they would end up together. Yet they did anyways. He was broody, she was bubbly. He has issues, she makes them. He was broken, she makes him whole. A series of one-shots and related stories of Matt and Mimi and the various reactions of the people around them.
1. Chapter 1

Hello there dear Digimon readers (To all the YamaMi or Mimato fans especially) SoY here! This will be my first trying my hand on this pairing and section, I hope you will all support me (reviews and criticism are welcomed!). I am in love with this pairing for a long while, and this series of one shots would hopefully show my love for them!

I will be using the U.S. version of their names as I am more familiar with it (and no suffixes, I am so bad with Japanese suffixes!). So without further ado~

* * *

 _Just maybe, because we're different, we can somehow make it work._

* * *

When they got together none of their friends could believe that it could happen. Not in a million years in fact.

He builds walls around him. She exists to break them.

He was broody, quiet and careless. She was bubbly, upbeat and a ball of energy.

He was tight-lipped. She was emotional.

He had issues. She makes them.

 _He was Sora's. She was Izzy's._

They broke up, each off their own other half, reasons they kept to themselves. Perhaps it was the death of their spark, tired of a high school romance cliché. Hers went more smoothly, with each agreeing that they wanted different things. An awkward hug at the end of it as a farewell. His was a disaster. Their friends remembered, their parents remembered, _they remembered_. The shouting, the broken ornaments, the tears. His. Hers. They remembered it all.

How those two got together was anyone's guess.

There was no way they could function, Tai once said out loud. That earned him a glare from the blonde, mouth open, ready to argue. The brunette would simply laugh it off, her hand gently caressing his arm, soothing his tired soul.

Many noted with surprise, especially his ex, on how quickly he would shut his mouth and simply sigh in response. She had an effect on him, something they can't put their fingers on. His deep blue eyes would sparkle as hers lit up in his.

When they walk together she would always initiate skinship first. Her hand fast into his, fingers intertwined like snakes in heat. He would not say anything about it but his raised brows betrayed his indifferent state. She would giggle, her sweet voice music to his ears and he could not help but smile. It was not unpleasant, her touch.

He has his faults. He builds walls around him. Whenever something happens (and something always happen) he would shut himself in his room, hands on his guitar, cigarette lit on his lips and eyes downcast. She exists to break them. Her kick violently opened his locked door, her eyes glowing with anger and she would shout, tears in her eyes for him to open up to her. He would have scoffed at her, were she any other girl (and there were so many). Yet he looked away guiltily, fingers stopped strumming the instrument, lips pursed, cigarette put out on the floor.

His voice would break, slowly apologizing, trying to explain. He was not good at it, opening up to people. One of the main reasons why he and Sora did not survive. He expected her to shout again, ready to be frustrated of his weak response, just like _she_ had been when they were going out. Yet her eyes would soften, tears still streaming down as she gently knelt next to him, hands outstretched. She would envelop him, his face on her chest, listening to her quickened heartbeat. She would murmur her own apology, and he would slowly explain his situation.

When she got into a relationship with him she did not expect him to remember her birthday. They were still new, still raw and tender. She was hopeful but doubtful at the same time. She wanted to give him space to learn and adapt. He was not one to be romantic. She knows that, their friends know that. So it was a great surprise to all of them (her especially) when they were invited to his apartment, seeing the place decorated, clean. Streamers were put up and an assortment of pink decorations filled the room. A strawberry cake with lit candles on the table. The blonde, his younger brother and his best friend's younger sister standing in front of them, their faces filled with a sense of achievement and glee.

He opened his mouth, ready to say it, the words, _"Happy Birthday"_ , but he didn't get the chance to. She tackled him, hard. Arms encircled around him with a death-like grip as he fell backwards, her petite form in his arms. She was an emotional person, she would cry. Sobbing with joy as he would gently pat her head, kissing and whispering sweet nothings into her ears. He had planned it albeit he did not know what to do initially. He asked for help, to T.K., to Kari, a sense of urgency in his voice to keep it a secret as they prepared for it a week before. He was a quiet person, and he was good at it.

He held out a small, wrapped gift to her. He did not know what she likes, he hoped she liked it anyways. It mattered not to her, she thought. Just the thought of him remembering her birthday had been the best gift she could ever receive in her lifetime. Having him in her life was a close second, she joked to herself.

He infuriates her at times but she knew she could not stay mad at him for long. He knew he infuriates her at times but strives to make her happy every time it happened. So they walked, and he surprised her still, as his hands made its way into hers first. He was deep in thought, brow furrowed and she would tightened her grip in his.

"We're…okay right?" That was the first time he had spoken anything about them being together. She was surprised. He was surprised too, at his openness.

Her lips would form a smile, she would lean in and nuzzle her nose on his coat. He would look at her in worry yet still give her a smile of his own. Rare indeed.

"We can make it work." She finally answered back. He would nod, satisfied with that answer as his lips found its way to hers.

He builds walls around him. She exists to break them.

He was broody, quiet and careless. She was bubbly, upbeat and a ball of energy.

He was tight-lipped. She was emotional.

He had issues. She makes them.

 _He is Mimi's. She is Matt's._


	2. Chapter 2: Hell Looks Like A Paradise

_Behind every word lies a hypocrisy so deep it makes Hell look like Paradise_

* * *

The little green-eyed monster. He didn't knew he had it in him. For as long as he was with Sora (and it was a long time) he had not been bitten by that monster. She was always surrounded by guys. When she played tennis, when she played soccer, heck even when she was in class there would always be some Tom, Dick or Harry talking up a storm with her. He never cared (that was what led to her calling him uncaring).

His lips were pursed and fists clenched in his pockets the whole time as he watched his other half brazenly flirting with the men around her. She was modelling for a magazine or some other, so were the men. He did not care. Then came the oh-so-sexy hoarse voice of Carlos or Fido or whatever their international names were, topless and muscles bulging as they swarmed his little flower.

She would giggle at their lame jokes, hands sliding off their shoulders to their chests, one by one. It made his stomach churn. He wanted to hit something, _someone_. He was patient. He waited until her shoot was over, to talk to her about his discomfort. She was a model. He was proud of her.

"They were just being friendly." She reasoned. "It's how they interact abroad." She reasoned again.

He still did not like it. He wanted her to stay away from the men unless they had to take their shots. She did not like it, his tone. So they argued, like any other day. He was being paranoid, she was being stubborn. He was raised in little ol' Japan, she was Americanised.

Words were thrown back and forth, alarmingly increasing into verbal abuses. He was frustrated. He wanted her to see that he actually cared. Under the heat of the moment, she did not.

" _Ugh, no wonder Sora dumped you!"_

She paled. His eyes widened. She had said too much, she knew. He knew. Her breath hitched, heart frozen as his eyes dulled and he looked away. _Please don't look away_. She silently begged.

"Maybe that's why." He chuckled. It was hollow, cold. It was like how he was back then, she remembered. The iciness, it made her shiver.

She wanted to apologize, mouth open, eyes watering. He was hurt. Without saying anything he left her rooted on the spot, still in mid-motion to say her piece. He did not care. She chased after him, would have been successful too, if not for the men from before suddenly grouping around her again. He did not look back. She shouted his name, he still walked away. He did not care. Hell looks like Paradise compared to this.

Hours later she left the studio, tears trailing down her face, mascara ruined and lipstick roughly smudged away. She wanted to see him, badly. She did not mean it, she wanted him to know. To care. She made her way to his apartment, knocking on his door. He did not answer, she knocked again. One, two, turned to hundreds she lost count. She stood there still, crying his name, a small plea to see his blue eyes again and be smothered in his arms.

Hours passed and she was still crying, too long some might say. She had given up on knocking, choosing to sit in front of his doors instead. She knew he had heard her, still waiting. The words replaying in her mind, _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

"Mimi?" That voice, her salvation, came not from behind the locked door. He stood, in front of her, coming out from the elevator. He was drenched, it had been raining outside. His hair a wild mess yet it made him look eerily beautiful still, for a man.

More out of muscle memory, she leapt into his arms, strings of apologies spewing from her mouth as she sobbed into his chest. _She did not mean it_. She repeated it at least a hundred times over. He was cold. She was warm. He hugged her back, she was glad by it.

"I…I was waiting in front of your house." He said sheepishly. Waited he had. Hours even, late into the night, out in the open storm. He knocked, no answers, he rang the doorbell, no answer still. So he stood outside her window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her visage. He wanted her to see he was sorry.

She cried even more. He was beautiful. She was the ugly one. He hastily denied that. She was in the wrong. He denied her still. He did not care. Not about that anymore.

He kissed her, passionately. She kissed him back, hungrily. They haphazardly made their way into his apartment, bodies in a tangled mess, arms not releasing one another. He did not want to miss her heat, she did not want to leave his chill. They were on his couch, bodies in a tangled mess still, comfortable with each other's presence.

They made up. He would control his jealousy, to a certain degree, she would stop entertaining the men, to a certain degree. It was a compromise both were glad to make. He wanted to show her he cared. She saw it.

In days to come she would come visit his work. Fan-signing, he called it. He was a rockstar. She was proud of him. He welcomed her, eyes shining as she stood to watch him work. He greeted his fans with a smile, a different smile he had reserved for her. She was glad.

Then one of the girls went up and kissed him. Wolf-whistles and flashing cameras all around. He blushed, she (the vixen) was giggling like mad, and he signed on her still.

She felt it, suddenly. She was bit. Something crept up into her, that little green-eyed monster. She walked up the podium, despite protest from the security details (who were they to stop the main event's significant other?), grabbed him by the collars, and kissed him.

She glared into the crowd. _Mine_. Her eyes warned. _Mine, mine, mine, all mine._ Both of them cared.


	3. Chapter 3: A Man for Flowers

Dear readers, I would like to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your reviews and messages. It was very heartwarming to read your thoughts and critics, giving me the desire to improve myself and to think of new ideas for this couple! To show my appreciation, here's the third chapter, a little early, and from a different person's point of view! Thank you all once again! Do leave a comment about it as soon as you finish reading! Enjoy!

* * *

 _A Man for Flowers, the smell of sunflower to remind the nostalgic heart of better days_

* * *

Little Kari once had a crush on big brother Matt. It wasn't that she didn't find T.K. adorable, it was just _Matt_. He was to sum it in entirety, a man for flowers. She always thought of him as cool, a prince charming at times, holding her small hand in his as he led her through Toy Town, of numerous places as a child.

Matt loved flowers, she remembered. It made him nostalgic, reminding him of better days. They were of the time his parents were together, he once confessed to little Kari, and to no one else. It made here feel special, that she was the only one to know, she felt butterflies in her stomach. Years gone by and that crush fades into a sibling-kind of bond. She still sees him as her big brother, he still sees her as his confidant.

He would sometimes buy Sora flowers, she remembered. Out of the blue, spontaneously, on occasions, at random, he would just appear in front of her, flowers in hand. Kari thought it was romantic (curse the little Kari that still sees him as Prince Charming) and how lucky Sora was to have him. Kari was surprised, sometimes Sora would give him a gentle smile, accepting his gift, mostly out of politeness, sometimes she would cry, would slap it away, petals kissing the cold pavement.

His façade did not break, she remembered. As Sora left, he would stay, kneeling on the ground, picking the flower up one by one, he could have just left them there. He did not. Matt loved flowers. Kari would offer a sympathetic smile, she did not know what to do, what to say. He accepted her gesture, would give her a sad smile back (her little heart would break) and she hugged his lonely back, offering her warmth. Like a sister would to her heartbroken brother. Kari never offered this gesture to Tai, she confessed, he never needed to be consoled after all.

Matt was always lonely, she remembered. He would be in their apartment, from time to time, day to day, and soon, his face was family. Little Kari liked it, _loved it_ , that she had him too, maybe in a different sense then Sora, but regardless, he was _hers_ too in some way. He would help her with her homework, with her relationship with boys (and the threats he made to those that would take advantage of her), with her chores and many miniscule matters that made Kari adored him more. Yet he was always lonely. She did not catch it then, but if he was in love, that he was spoken for, why was he always alone?

He was beaten black and blue, she remembered. It was one of his spats with Tai, this time it turned into something major, about Sora she was sure. He returned after Tai did, sometime into the evening, uniform torn, face swollen. Little Kari rushed to his side, panicking, Tai was injured too, yet Matt was her priority. They would not say anything about it, she was angry, they did not want to share with her, a little girl always in their eyes. She shouted, probably for the first time in her life, for them to grow up and make up. They were startled, saw the lass was growing up, more mature than they both, and later that night they did, with Matt tearing up and Tai listening to him patiently.

Matt loved flowers, she remembered. They would sometimes walk through the flower field, a path only they knew off, and it was a beautiful secret. He loved the sunflowers the most, he would not say why, but little Kari knew, it reminded him of Sora. He would not pick them off, it would be wrong, he said, instead he would just stare at them, a content smile on his face, and she would smile too.

Matt was always sad, she remembered. He would play his guitar, all by his lonesome, where he thought nobody would find him. Yet little Kari knew, it was their secret spot after all, a place only they knew, to be away from pitiful eyes. He would play a sad tune, she would sit next to him. He said nothing, she did not as well, yet he acknowledged her presence, and so did she. His music carried a heavy heart, she would silently cry, for she knew she could not lighten them. They said nothing as they walked back to the Kamiya residence, her hand in his, leading her back home. Her big brother Matt.

Matt was shattered, she remembered. That day, that big fight none of them would ever forget, she knew he was destroyed. He never understood Sora, the latter thought she understood him, yet they were in a mess. Kari remembered the words that came out of the ginger, it made her blood boil, of the lies and poison spewed about her big brother, yet she knew some of them were true. Matt fought back, he bit back, a little too hard. Sora never understood him, she did not know, it was his way of actually salvaging their relationship that underneath the insults and frustration, was a man screaming " _Don't leave me."_ Kari understood. The climax came, with Sora, who held a pressed flower in her grip, tearing it into pieces. It was his gift, his confession of love to her, of their hopes and dreams, and their so-called undying love died then. Kari dare not recall what came after.

Matt was broken, she remembered. He stopped coming by the house, phone calls lessened, and even Tai was worried. It took him some time, finally they saw him, a broken man. A hollow soul wearing a human skin, he looked nothing like the old Matt, full of vigor and life. Kari broke down, hated seeing him like that, yet she could not ease his pain. Tai was in the dark too, a man unknown to the cruelties of a broken heart, he could only give words of encouragements and of a better tomorrow. They did not realize then, but Mimi too had an uneasy goodbye, though that is a story for another day.

Matt is with Mimi, she remembered. Kari would look at the couple fondly, years later, as they all came together in the Kamiya residence, as they should be. He was still her big brother, she his little sister, and now she has a new big sister. They would argue, would get on each other's cases, yet they understood each other. He would have her in his embrace, never letting go for fear of her leaving. She would be in his hug, deep into his body, afraid to miss his beating heart. Kari would coo, would be smitten by their smallest actions, signs of them loving one another. Matt was happy. Kari was happy too.

Matt would still go to the flower field, she remembered. It was their secret spot, their special place. They came back, one day after the rain, and they saw the freshly grown sunflowers. His face would turn pale, fists clenched, sighing all the way. Kari would stand next to him, she would scrunch her face too, frowning. He went down the fresh patch, plucking the flowers mutely, leaving them only the grace of their poor stems. It reminded him of bitter days.

Matt hated flowers.


	4. Chapter 4: Benevolent Days

Special thanks goes out to these reviewers who have supported me on the start of my little fic here; **soojinah, Blonde-Eko, Seria on Twelve Notes, MimixIshidax, IxPinkRoses, Reniel Moza** and **Guests**! Hope you will be entertained by this chapter~ Without further ado~

* * *

 _If we loved each other, promised our future together, why did we not fight for it?_ Benevolent _days, whatever happened to all that?_

* * *

Mimi sighed, her long lashes flickered up and down, hair swaying slightly, sashaying her way down the hall. Eyes turned to look, to wonder, to be smitten, to envy. She took little notice in this, unlike in the past, where she would revel in the attention boys would give her. Lavishing her in their affection, their gifts and their lies. She loved it all. She cursed it all.

Izzy never minded, or rather, he never paid any attention to how the other boys would speak to her. He knew of course, and some part of him actually felt proud, to be the envy of the boys who were chasing his significant other. Yet that was his downfall. He never paid special attention to her. Mimi's frustration, her feelings conveyed to the genius, fell to deaf ears. He was always busy, always chasing after the next project, of new discoveries and wonders. She wanted him close, yet he was never there ( _stay close to me_ ). She cursed that boyfriend of hers.

Days were she would rant to Sora, where she would offer Mimi a sympathetic smile and her advices, yet the ginger had her own problems to deal with ( _she was hurting too_ ). Matt was slipping away from her, or so Mimi had heard. He was always so broody, so selfish, Sora would rant. Never sharing a thing, and Mimi was left to wonder if that was a trait all boys shared. She cursed the species that made her woeful.

Their mutual break up was lacklustre, with virtually no tears or drama, this saddened Mimi somehow. If she had felt something for Izzy then, and he to her, would there not be a scene? Would he not fight for her, beg her to stay? Would she not be on her knees, tears falling, holding onto him to not let her go? Izzy lacked the capacity to compute emotions ( _why won't you say anything?_ ), yet wasn't she the same, if some part of her, deep down, was actually glad when he let her go? She cursed that shameful part of hers.

It was weeks ago, none of her friends knew, she did not contact them, doubtful they would understand, would relate. She wanted to be alone, and alone she was, her cell phone away, for once, simply making her way through life day by day. Yet she cursed him all the same, for being on her mind. Curse that adorable, foolish, computer geek that once was hers.

Mimi finally mourned, finally realized he would never be hers again. She sobbed, alone in the park as autumn leaves fell, and she did not like it. She cared not, of the curious onlookers, of the barking dogs that passed. To them, she was beautiful still, a picture of a grieving maiden, painted in makeups and dolled to perfection. Of a decorated beauty. She cursed her loneliness ( _why did you leave me_ ).

She felt a bump on her head, something warm. She felt someone close yet she did not look up, wishing for the stranger to go away ( _go away_ ). He did not, she cursed him. Angry wet eyes met with dulled, blue ones. She was surprised to see him, the blonde, Matt. Her eyes softened yet his stayed dark, urging her to take the drink he offered. She offered her thanks, he merely shrugged. Mimi knew something was different, was _wrong_ somehow. He was devoid of life, of all that made him Matt. His face was unshaven (yet he was sexy all the same), cigarette lit on his lips, tired eyes wearily looking into hers. In one smooth move, his hand was on her face, busily wiping the tears away. She blushed, her heartbeat pacing fast, face heating up as he gave her a tired smile (it drove her crazy somehow). She cursed this womanizer.

He sat next to her, smoke slowly drifting into the air, hands in his pocket. He was quiet, so was she, yet it was not uncomfortable, this unknown tension ( _this is nice_ ). Out of all her friends, Matt was the quietest. He was always angry, she knew that, fuse easily lit, yet he was as quiet as a mouse when it mattered. Sora made mention once, that being with him was like riding an emotional roller-coaster, forever screaming at the tracks that is Matt. That made her curious, for all their time spent together was when they were with their significant other. That caused tears to well up again. She cursed her memory.

He did not inquire, did not ask of her reasons behind her weeping, her tears. She told him anyways ( _listen to me_ ). It was like releasing a dam, her feelings, her deepest secrets. She did not stop, like a finely-tuned engine, continuing to talk as he quietly listened. She looked at him in awe, at his patience, at him not telling her to shut up, he was a good listener. When she finished, her breathing was erratic, chest heaving up and down, she did not realize it but she was standing, her whispers turned to shouts, she was embarrassed by it. She cursed herself for being so emotional.

The blonde did not react, did not even stir, not even a surprised gasp. He merely smoked, staring at the sky, at the falling leaves ( _say something_ ). That irked her. Sure he had Sora, someone precious to him, so he could not relate to her problem, still, she had hoped he at least acknowledged her pain. Of this insane feeling that your heart might explode any second, of her sadness, of her heart beating slowly and painfully each second they were apart. She cursed his selfishness.

Angry tears fell freely, teeth clenched, her purse in hand, ready to leave;

"I broke up with Sora."

Her eyes were as wide as a saucer, her purse slowly fell to the ground. He wasn't looking at her, cigarette still rolling on his lips.

"She dumped me, to be exact."

Mimi took a seat next to the blonde, not realizing her mouth hung open, hand already on his arm ( _are you okay?_ ). He finally turned to look at her, she saw it, his dull eyes, screaming in pain.

"I understand." He simply said, giving her that sad smile of his again ( _don't look at me like that_ ).

She cried again, silently, her face buried in his arm, clenching onto his jacket, teeth clamped harder. It was mortifying, miserable even, at the state they were in. It was pathetic, she thought. She yelped when he suddenly moved his arm, pressing her face onto his chest instead. She blushed, amidst the tears, and she nuzzled in close to his warmth ( _I can hear his heartbeat_ ).

It finally dawned on her, a little too late. She had lost Izzy. It wasn't because he was a bad boyfriend, it was because she was selfish. All she ever said, to him and to Matt, were the strings of ' _I want, I want_ ', full of her own desires. She never stopped to ask, to take note of his wants, his dreams, of what he thinks. What did he want? What did he need? She never stopped to think about it. She cursed her own selfishness.

He leaned on her head, inhaling her strawberry-scented shampoo mixed with the lingering scent of his cigarette, as he twirled her hair between his fingers ( _don't stop_ ).

"What am I supposed to do?" He was in pain.

She looked up, sniffling as she did so, eyes wet still.

"Hug me." ( _Hug me_ ).

And he did.

Curse her own selfishness.


	5. Chapter 5: Time Ticks, Ticks, Away

Dear readers, thank you so much for your support up until now! This chapter is up right before the merry season and I hope you all will enjoy it. Please do review if there is anything to improve upon or to leave your thoughts ;) Have a Merry Christmas friends!

* * *

 _Time ticks, ticks away. When you left, the clock seemed to stop._

* * *

" _Merry Christmas, Matty."_

Time stopped for Matt Ishida. It was like a cog was stuck, unmoving, irreparable, yet it still ticks. He didn't realize it, she didn't realize it, yet time had stopped for them. Since when, he was not sure, but he did not care, for Mimi is with him.

It was also unnerving to think that Matt Ishida, a man notably comparable to a lone wolf, an unruly rebel, whimsical as the wind, would ever be _whipped_ (as his best friend Tai guffawed). He would growl, would frown, would let out a small whine at the end, but Mimi was persistent. She would link her arm with his, she was strong for a person of her size, and drag him to the mall with her. Christmas sucks for Matt.

The holiday season had just started after all, Christmas. Her eyes would sparkle, wide smile, positively oozing with the merry spirit, like a small child in a toy store. Matt would smile, Mimi was adorable when she was like that. He slapped himself gently, trying to do his best to enjoy their time together. It was not like he hated shopping, it was just that Mimi was a _slow_ shopper.

Agonizing hours passed by, of her trying out a new dress, a new purse, a new pair of shoes, a new scarf, _him_ being forced to try on a new scarf, it was absolutely horrifying for Matt, but he stayed quiet and accepted his fate. Seeing that smile on her face was worth it (or at least, he thinks it is).

Mimi knew he was tolerating it just for her. Rather than be peeved about it, she was elated. The old Matt would never as much as agreed to even go out during the holiday eve. She tiptoed, pecked him on the cheek, after they had purchased one of the scarfs (just one, Matt looked shocked), and wrapped herself closer in his embrace. She knew which buttons to press, he looked pleased and returned one on her neck, nibbling away on her pearly skin. She would giggle, eyes locked into his lovingly, and nuzzled her head underneath his chin.

They spent some more time around the mall, with Matt finally getting into the groove of it, fussing over whether the gloves he was holding will match the scarf, and she would playfully banter back. He would look devilishly handsome in anything, even rags, and she would love him still. Then they walked some more, passing familiar faces. Tai and Kari were buying gifts for their family (Tai would make kissing faces at them and Kari would respectfully elbow him right in the ribs), Joe at the coffee shop (they would greet him and joined him for a short chat), T.K. and the younger group hanging by the arcade (Yolei squealed excitedly as she saw Mimi while the boys would open a casual talk with Matt).

Mimi would be pulled away, the younger girl excitedly wanted to ask her for cosmetic advices. The brunette would look unsurely at her blonde counterpart, he would nod, giving his okay, as he decided to hang out with his brother and his friends. Mimi would give him a deep kiss, he would return it, and the others would blush and look away.

The boys would walk at random, chatting up about pointless things. Matt felt a bit relieved, not having to shop anymore. They would check the music store, Matt eyeing a new guitar with longing, wondering if he could save enough to buy it. Davis was interested in a guitar as well, given his personality, he would be great at it, Matt thought. They would spend their time like this, Matt mused, and he thought it wasn't so bad, as they walked around the mall.

Then he saw her. His stomach lurched, face froze grimly. It was still awkward, even when it had been almost a year, that odd sensation and electric-like allure they had for each other. Sora stood a few feet away from him, shopping bag in hand. She was always a light shopper, one of the few reasons why he loved her. The boys would look at each other uncomfortably, before excusing themselves, sensing dread if they stayed.

It felt like ages, their eyes locking into one another, yet strangely Matt did not feel that old sense of anger and despair, ones he felt days, weeks, months after she left him. It wasn't longing, nor did he needed any acceptance from her. They were friends before they were lovers, that feeling surged downwards into the pit of his stomach. No one else was present as he did so, nor would they believe he would ever, not to her, but Matt smiled. Not the sarcastic, forced smile, but a genuine, friendly even, gesture.

Sora's eyes softened and she smiled back. Days of old were a thing of the past, something that time is trying to heal, for both of them. Unbelievably yet again, Matt approached her first, hands in his pocket. He could see her breath stitched, surprised, yet not unwelcoming. They stood, face to face, he could count the number of small freckles on her face, and she could see her own reflection in the azure of his eyes. Gently, she raised her hand to brush the back of his neck, towards his hair. He felt the electricity again as she tugged at his hair.

"It's longer now." She said, in that gentle, warm way that reminded him of the early days of their relationship.

Matt shrugged, his own fingers on her face, softly tracing the lines of her cheekbones. "And you're tanned."

She giggled, pulling back from him. They stood side by side, silently looking at something that was not quite there, and for a moment they both wondered, what had went wrong? It was pointless to think about, he thought, it was too little too late, she thought.

Sora mused for a while, thinking about how they spent their Christmas together the year before. On how it was one of their few rare moments when they did not fight, no arguments, no insults. So much has changed since then, even if he was standing close next to her, there was a gap, something that cannot be filled.

"I'm sorry."

It was small, almost inaudible, yet he had spoken it. Surely it was him, for there were no one else close enough to say it. His eyes closed, remorseful, fists clenched in his coat.

Her eyes widened, heart stopped, breath frozen. They stood, side by side, silently engulfing each other by the impact behind those spoken words. The gravity of it hitting her like a freight truck.

Tears welled up in Sora's eyes, falling down slowly as she smiled, to what they both aren't quite sure, as people passed by. Their clocks, cogs that were missing, irreparable, irreplaceable, started to move again.

She nodded. "Mmhmm." She sniffed. "Me too."

They stood there still, side by side, finally realized what had always been there, right in front of their eyes, the love they once had for one another, of a different possibility.

Sora wiped the tears in her eyes, Matt awkwardly and trying to, but failed, secretly wipe his. He was always bad at hiding things in front of her, though he did it anyways. She finally moved away, heart started beating again, as he watched her figure walk away.

"Merry Christmas, Matty."

Matt merely smiled.


	6. Chapter 6: Ghosts

Hello dear readers, sorry for the late update! I have been busy with classes and my university projects just piled up after the new years. I'd like to get back to my routine of thanking my loyal readers who have supported me so far, and I hope you would like this little chapter.

 ***This is a what-if scenario*** Do let me know what you guys think :) Enjoy~

* * *

 _Sometimes, you would wonder, if the ones we loved ever truly left us_

* * *

Matt wondered, from time to time, how he even got himself into this situation every time. It was always something small, something insignificant, which then led to a full-scale argument. She would huff, and puff, and her cheeks would turn red. He would blink, and stutter, and tries his best to appeal to her sense of reason, to no avail. In no way, no how, would he ever be caught dead in a pink shirt which screams 'I'M WHIPPED'. He should have just put on the stupid shirt, he thought grimly.

Matt knew how to diffuse the situation though. He caught on, after a long period of time hanging around the delicate yet dangerous time bomb known as Mimi. No matter how loud they would scream at each other, how she would jump and bite at him (he secretly enjoys that) and how loud she cried, he would always come back to her, chocolate cake in one hand, the other ready to welcome her into his embrace, as she would always forgive him. He wished he could touch her one more time.

Mimi loves to play with his hair. They would be tangled together, their hot and hormonal youthful adventures. She would always be bunching his hair together, making it into a small ponytail. He would laugh, his voice a sweet allure prickling on her senses. She would nibble away on his neck, playfully, seductively and she would growl when he pretends to not notice, quietly strumming his guitar. He wanted to go back to those times again.

Their apartment was small, but there was enough room for the two to live in. Matt took a big leap when he asked Mimi if she wanted to stay together. She leapt at the chance, shrieking a million yes'es' in the middle of the café, not caring who was around (It gave poor Kari a jolt). Everybody pitched in to help them move, especially Sora. When she appeared the whole gang was shocked, expecting another one of their episodes; Joe was half-ready to intervene, and Tai walked quickly to Matt, just in case he would pounce at her. They were speechless however, when Matt let out a bark of a laughter, giving her a quick hug, and she would return it, a warm smile plastered on her face. The gang was whole again. There were so many things he wanted to tell them, to her.

Matt was deathly pale the night he agreed to a dinner plan with Mimi's parents. He was sweating cold sweats, legs shaking like jelly, and there was a bile in his throat he can't quite swallow. He wore his best suit, hair swept back with an unbelievable amount of gel, face cleanly shaven of any patchy facial hair. The Tachikawas were as every bit explosive as his girlfriend (he liked that word). They were full of energy, of laughter, of warmth, that he could not help but relax around them. Mimi smiled as she watched her father talked enthusiastically with her boyfriend (she liked that word) about his musical journey, about their time in the Digital World. He would turn to look at her, and they would share a moment, hands intertwined underneath the table. Matt wished he could have properly asked her parents for her hand.

Even though he does not show it, Matt was always fighting with his own inner demons. Mimi hated it, that as a couple, they would function almost decently, he would still shut her out. It would be of his estranged relationship with his mother, of actually diving fully into music as his career, of (he would never, ever tell her this) the prospect of their relationship actually surviving till the end of times. Mimi would come to terms with his brooding, though not fully, as she would kick him in the shins, hard, whenever he finally leaves his 'brooding' room, and immediately sits down with him, gently caressing his hair, shushing him gently and whispering soothing words of him pulling through it, whatever it may be. Matt missed her touch terribly.

Their life together was like a routine time table, if only the time table had nothing written on it and never abided upon. She would take ages, even eons, in the shower. Matt would bang the door loudly, being terribly late for his band practice. Mimi would open the door, eventually after the umpteenth time he knocked, hair wet and eyes fluttering seductively. She would slowly pull him inside, licking her lips, and he would gulp, blood rising to his face. They learnt to share the shower every morning after that. He ended up being late every day after that compromise. Matt recalled those steamy moments as if they were yesterday.

Mimi's heart was beating madly, as she rushed to their apartment. She had forgotten, of her trip with the girls to a dress store, one that tailored a specific kind of gown. She berated herself for being so stupid, to have left them with their home number, to wish that he was not home yet to answer their call. As she fumbled with the keys she realized their door was unlocked, and he walked past her briskly, not even a word as he quickly entered the elevator. Mimi was rooted to the spot, her mind slowly processing what just happened. She slowly walked in, her hand shaking as she picked up the wireless phone off the floor. She knew he had received the call, and surely enough, he would have misunderstood. That wedding dress was not meant for her, nor was it a secret hint for Matt in any way. She took deep breaths, she knew he was off somewhere to cool down. She would explain, calmly, that it was just a misunderstanding, that she was not pressuring him to do anything. Yes, everything will be fine, she knew he would be back, chocolate cake in hand.

Matt however, swallowed it calmly. He was home early, had seen the beeping light of their answering machine, and had heard the woman on the other line spoke of "Miss Tachikawa's bridal gown." It was like a gentle slap, a sudden realization that he had been sitting on that decision for a long time. Finally he took that leap of faith, and he quickly made his way outside, passing his girlfriend. He did not stop, could not stop, for he was a man with a mission. He waved her goodbye when he reached the elevator, though he was not sure if she had seen him. He walked a couple of blocks away, to a shop he had passed by so many times, to have seen the perfect stone he wanted to give her. He made a deal with the jeweler, a pricey affair but he knows it was worth it. She was worth it. His mind filled with the prospect of his future, their future together.

He stopped at the crossing, the light has yet to turn green. He took out his phone, remembering and knowing exactly who his best man is going to be. He quickly dialed his best friend's number, though it went into voicemail.

"I'm gonna ask Mimi to marry me." He said excitedly. "I love her Tai. She's the one. I got the ring, I'm gonna ask her right n-"

 _And the sirens blared all night long._

* * *

Mimi replayed that voice note over and over again. Every day, every moment, and it had been weeks. The apartment was cold, dark, and unwelcoming. His shirts were all over the place, and so were their pictures together. She sat in the middle of their small apartment, his guitar in her arms, she pressed the 'play' button again, an engagement ring worn on her thin finger.

 _"I'm gonna ask Mimi to marry me."_ (Her tears won't stop).

 _"I love her Tai."_ (Her heart was already crumbled).

 _"She's the one."_ (She lets go of the guitar, pulling her hair desperately).

 _"I got the ring, I'm gonna ask her right n-"_

"MIMI!"

The front door was forcefully opened, bringing in the bright light of the sun outside (she cursed the brightness of it all). Her friends clamored inside, she quickly hid the phone inside her pocket. Seconds later Sora was by her side, embracing her in a motherly fashion. Kari had obviously been crying, still hiccupping. Tai's eyes were still red, and Mimi realized so was everyone's. Her own was hollowed, dead even.

"Mimi." Sora finally spoke, her voice filled with love and warmth. "Mimi." She shook her again, gently.

The brunette looked at the ginger, her eyes still wet.

"It's been three weeks." (Three weeks since what?)

"We've buried him." (Who?)

"He wouldn't want you to be sad over him." (Who?)

"He loved you, so much Meems. And we love you too, that's why we can't stand to see you like this." (Who?)

"He…He's gone Meems."

(Who?) "…Who?" Her voice was hoarse, her throat dry, after so many days of not uttering a word, to anyone.

Sora looked at her pitifully, her grip tighter.

For all the things Matt would miss, or so she thought he would miss, Mimi did not know what she should do next. With tears falling freely, she looked towards the guitar, seeing the man she loves, his hair as wild as ever, a ghost of grin on his face, cigarette on his lips, calling her name sweetly.

"If- If you're okay with it, l-let's go out today, just to the park. Get some fresh air, or… or maybe you'd like to…visit his grave…"

Sora's voice seemed so far away now, for Mimi was still staring at the silhouette of her love. He took her hand into his, rubbing the ring gingerly. She imagined it, saw it, felt it, her eyes following the mute motion of his lips, the words she would have said yes to. She bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood, gripping the hands of the ghost who was once hers.

 _Will you marry me?_

 _..._

 _..._

 _..._

"…Yes…"


	7. Chapter 7: Tears

Chapter 7: Tears

Dear all, I must apologize for the one year of absence I took from this story. It took me quite awhile to get myself together again and finally find the much needed (and well deserved) free time to update. I hope you all will like it and a special thanks to all of you who have been patient with my disappearance from this little story of mine :)

Anyway this chapter is to celebrate the latest of the Tri series" A shoutout to Sora special!

* * *

 _You and I are meant to be together, til' the end of times. We bind ourselves in thorns, unwilling to let each other go_

* * *

Sora was tired, huffing at the strands of hair poking her eyes, wanted nothing more than a relaxing bath to soothe her tired limbs. She was sweaty, soaked to the bones, having a full day of tennis practice to keep her mind off reality. _Off him_.

 _Click_. She made her way inside her apartment, switching the lights on, dumping her racquet and bag to the side, her eyes glued to the refrigerator. Her salvation. Rummaging through the content of her neatly organized beverages, she quenched her thirst greedily, happy to gulp down the much needed liquid.

 _Clunk_. Her ears recognized the sound of her washing machine, remembering their laundry, and she let out a sigh. He wouldn't remember to do it, not in a million years.

"Matty can you put the clothes in the dryer? I wanna take a-"

 _Oh_.

 _Silence_. She had expected that. How could she have forgotten? It has been a full season after all, since their breakup. She was so used to his presence, to his scent, the soft hum that always came from their ( _her_ ) living room, that she had failed to properly register they were not together anymore.

 _Drip_. The sound of the all-too familiar leaky faucet, it took her a full minute to get her heart to start beating again, to rub her eyes off the tears that escaped, to stop (forcefully) her small sniffles. He was no more, they were no longer exclusive.

 _Huff._ She calmed herself. No more tears, she had promised herself yet she knew. He was worth it, that he meant something in her life, that she was allowed to break down whenever she thought of them together again. Of the past, despite all the arguments and fights. _Please come back_.

 _Squeak_. She let the water pour onto her from the running shower, the bath had been forgotten, and she needed this. She tapped the tiles, remembering their steamy moments, of her body pressed onto the walls, of his fingers in her hair, of them being one. She shivered at the memory, despite the warm water and she cursed as she bled, cutting herself slightly with her own nails. _It felt better_.

 _Whirr_. The fan cooled her down, as she lay on the sofa, feeling like all her energy had left her and in dire need of a recharge. _Was it always this quiet around here?_ Of course not. There was always something, be it the sound of his guitar, or his voice, or of his best friend that crashed here at odd moments (he was her best friend too), of laughter, of anger, of furniture and kitchenware shattering into pieces. _Stop_. She does not want to remember any more of it, so she muffled her screams, beating down on the cushion.

 _Strrng_. She froze, her eyes darting wildly around, and she saw the guitar (or what's left of it), that she had knocked it over from her fit. She wondered why she had left it there, maybe on purpose, to serve as a reminder, to mock (him or her, she wasn't sure anymore), of something that was once there. She gently picked it up, on the base was left, and she delicately strum the chords. She played some, if only that she was insistent to know the basics, to get closer to him, to _understand_ him.

 _Bzzt_. The television sprung to life, remote in hand, guitar on her lap, hugging close for fear of losing it ( _for what purpose? He was gone_ ). She flipped through the channels and her breath hitched, seeing him on the local news, covered for his latest album, and she let out a mortified laugh. His songs, she knew, the lyrics, ones they wrote together, once upon a time in a happier setting, that it was their only connection now. She looked to her radio and saw the cd cover, remembering the tune of the songs, they weren't meant to be sad songs, not when they had envisioned it together, once before.

 _Crack._ She threw the guitar, where the cd was, and she screamed deeper into the tiny pillow. She was angry. At him, even more so at herself, for letting him get to her, for pushing him ( _her_ ) away, and on impulse she ran into her room, knocking away the heavy set of boxes underneath her bed. She rummaged through the memorabilia, of the funny smell of wilted flowers.

 _Sniff_. If only he knew, how much it meant to her, how much it broke her, whenever he got her those damned ( _those darling_ ) flowers. She knew she must have a few screws loose, keeping them even after they had died. Perhaps it was symbolic, that she wanted to desperately hang onto what was once there, even after it was way beyond past its expiry. The flowers were dead, so was she, so were they. She swatted away the dead roses and poppies ( _like her_ ), and her hands trembled. The pressed flower, her Ambrosia, one she had taped back together, his gift. She embraced it tightly, so tight that it hurts.

 _Boom._ Came the sound of thunder, of a summer rain, and her lights flicker on and off. She stored them back, as neatly as possible, and they remain hidden until she breaks down again, and she surely will. She dragged herself back to the sofa, plummeting herself into it, her eyes closed, slowly trying to catch his scent ( _why was she doing this? She's over him…_ ).

It wasn't worth the heartache ( _it was worth it_ ).

It wasn't worth the tears ( _it was worth it_ ).

It wasn't worth the depression ( _it was worth it_ ).

 _He was worth it_.

Sora let out a huge sigh, shaking her head. Her emotions were a mess, even after all this while, his departure left a huge mark on her life. She needed to get over it, _over him_. It wasn't healthy, pining over him like this, falling over and hurting herself. She doesn't deserve this, not for him. She'll learn, slowly, to move on. For all she knows he has probably shagged up with a bimbo or whoever that pleases his eyes (she frowned at the thought).

 _Ding_. The doorbell. She looked at the door, wondering who it could be. She racked her brain, could it be Tai? Or was it Mimi? She didn't make any plans to hang out, surely she would have remembered.

 _Ding_. That sound again. She sighed, and yelped a second later, at the loud booming sound of thunder, and the lights went off. She was in disarray, hands on her ears, hugging herself on the floor.

 _Knock_. It was manual this time, and she let out a growl. She was haywire, her emotions everywhere and anywhere at the same time. She flailed around and walked to the door by memory alone, knocking on a few chairs along the way.

 _Knock_.

"I'm here damn it, I'm here! Now what's so important that you-"

 _Oh._

He stood in front of her, like a ghost, drenched from head to toe ( _a beautiful ghost_ ). She caught a whiff of that all-too familiar scent of cigarettes, missing that ungodly smell, and he was still there. Matt was there.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, as if unsure of what to say, looking at her hesitantly. His eyes, his sweet, mesmerizing, baby blue eyes, locked into hers. He ruffled his hair rather violently, letting a small growl of frustration, at himself, surely, for he must have realized where he was and he wasn't supposed to be here. He turned to leave, but Sora caught his sleeve.

 _He wasn't worth it._

Their eyes were once again locked to one another.

 _This isn't worth it_.

Their lips quivered, inching closer together.

 _To hell with what's worth it or not._

She threw herself at him, her lips hungering for his flavour. They can think of the consequences tomorrow.


End file.
